Spooning.

Tea spoons are always

disappearing

you don’t realise their value

till

your coffee

sugarless and milk

ruined

settles wrong

or you pull

the tea bag

out bare fingered

and wrong

wrong wrong

people steal

spoons

people who understand

the value

of such things

creep

in

obviously

and take them one

at a time

they wouldn’t steal

your computer

or cd collection

or tv or anything you’d notice

just a single spoon

at a time just to fuck

with you

people are bastards

like that

they’re always

looking to take

things from you

little by little

right before you need

them and you roam

restless and fuming

wondering where the fuck

it went

and why you weren’t paying enough

attention

to notice

most people take

other things

sacred

things

wordless Godless

roaming lovely

fleshy sordid sacred

things

you happily platter

up

and lose

like charity monthly

debits

of living

or whatever

there’s a vacant

gaping holiday spot

somewhere

I’m sure

and I hope

to vacation there someday

where all these things live

listlessly

waiting

a beach of useless

items and love

and filth

and pining

and energy

and want

whistling

about like a draught

caught between the branches

of languished

trees

and instead of sand

the beach is made

up of all the spoons

I’ve been looking for

for the past

few fucking

years

things like that don’t rust

like you’d think

they would

they settle shiny

and unused

so plentiful

and grotesque

in their collective

size

that they lose all value

you can bet

there wouldn’t be a moment

where you’d need

or even want

a fucking

spoon

on a beach like that